The noble lady Kausalya, overwhelmed by sorrow, addressed her companion with a heart full of pain. “Respected lady,” she said, “why do you reproach me when I am innocent and unaware? You know well the depth and steadfastness of my affection for Raghava. My mind, guided by the scriptures, will never turn away from him. He is truthful, the best among the virtuous, and you yourself have always approved of him. Let the most sinful servant be sent forth, let him desecrate the sun itself, or strike a sleeping cow with his foot—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. If a master, after having his servant accomplish great deeds, then casts him aside and renders him useless, that is unrighteousness—such is the destiny of one who acts with your approval. If, while protecting his subjects as if they were his own children, a king is betrayed, then may sin befall the one who acts with your consent. If a king collects the lawful share of taxes from his people but fails to protect them, may the sin of such neglect fall upon the one who acts with your consent. If, after promising gifts to ascetics at a sacrifice, someone deceitfully withholds that reward, let the sin fall upon the one who has gained your consent. In the tumult of battle, crowded with elephants, horses, and chariots, where weapons flash all around, may he who has gained your consent fail to uphold the righteous conduct of the virtuous. Let the subtle meaning of the scriptures, carefully taught by the wise, be destroyed by the wicked-minded one who has gained your approval. May he not behold one whose arms are adorned, who shines like the moon and the sun, seated in royal splendor—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. Let him, pitiless, eat rice cooked in milk and gruel in vain, and even scorn his elders—such is the destiny of one who has gained your consent. Let him touch cows with his foot, slander his elders, and betray his friends—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. Let him, wicked in mind, reveal in public some confidential reproach spoken in trust—such is the destiny of one who acts with your approval. Let him be inactive, ungrateful, self-abandoned, shameless, and hated by all in the world—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. Surrounded by sons, wives, and servants in his own house, let him eat fine food alone—such is the destiny of one who acts with your consent. Let him, failing to obtain a suitable wife, die childless and never accomplish righteous acts—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. Let him see his own lineage perish, be distressed in his wives, and not attain a full lifespan—such is the destiny of one who acts with your consent. May he incur the sin declared for killing a king, a woman, a child, or an elder, and for abandoning a servant—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. Let him always support servants with lac, honey, meat, iron, and poison—such is the destiny of one who acts with your consent. When battle is joined and he causes fear among the enemy’s ranks, let him be slain as he flees—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. Let him, with a skull in hand, wander the earth clad in rags, begging like a madman—such is the destiny of one who acts with your consent. Let him become addicted to drink, to women, and to gambling, always overcome by desire and anger—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. Let his mind turn to righteousness, yet let him practice unrighteousness; let him give in charity to the unworthy—such is the destiny of one who acts with your consent. Let the wealth he has gathered in many forms, by the thousands, be plundered by robbers—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. Whatever sin is ascribed to one who sleeps through both twilights, may that sin fall upon the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he incur the sin that comes from neglecting the sacred fire, from violating the teacher’s bed, and from betraying a friend—such is the fate of one who acts with your consent. May he never serve the gods, ancestors, mother, or father—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he swiftly fall today itself from the world of the virtuous, from their fame, and from righteous deeds—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. Let him abandon service to his mother and stand for no purpose—the long-armed, broad-chested one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he, though having many sons, be poor and afflicted with fever and disease, always suffering—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he make false promises to those who are his equals, to the distressed, to those who look up in hope, and to supplicants—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he always delight in deceit, be harsh, slanderous, impure, and fearful of the king, unrighteous in soul—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May the wicked one transgress against a virtuous wife who is bathed and receptive at the proper time—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he, abandoning his lawful wife, consort with others’ wives, his mind estranged from righteousness—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he incur the sin that befalls a Brahmin whose lineage is lost—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he alone obtain the sin of polluting water or giving poison—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he, with impure senses, hinder worship intended for a Brahmin, or milk a cow meant for a calf—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he, when water is available, deceive a thirsty person, and thus incur that sin—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. May he, while others argue sincerely and seek the right path in his presence, be joined to their sin—the one by whose consent the noble one has departed. Thus, deprived of her husband and son, Kausalya, the king’s wife, sought to console herself by uttering these words. Yet, overwhelmed by grief, she finally collapsed, unable to bear the weight of her sorrow.